


Good Morning, My King

by smokingbomber



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Aftercare, Background Poly, Background Usamamo Minagi and Minakunz, Bondage, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Consentacles, Crystal Tokyo Era, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Energy Vampirism, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wanted To Read It So I Had To Write It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Immobility, Immortality, M/M, Magical Healing Makes All Of This Safe, Magical Supression of Gag Reflex, Orgasm Delay, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Powers, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, S&M, Sensory Deprivation, Strangulation, Suspension, Tentacle Bondage, being the porn you want to see in the world, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokingbomber/pseuds/smokingbomber
Summary: King Endymion's in a poly relationship with Neo Queen Serenity, Kunzite, and Sailor Venus. NQS and Vee are out of town, and Kunzite really spectacularly indulges a few of his beloved liege's more... creatively dark fantasies. And boy do they have fun.





	Good Morning, My King

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not QUITE embarrassed I wrote this? But wow. Do review if you've got it in you, let me know what parts you particularly liked.

King Endymion awoke naked in the dark and cold, unable to move, and he couldn't really feel his hands. He could tell there was no blindfold over his eyes, and he realized after a moment that he wasn't lying on anything at all, but hanging suspended in the air. There was no friction he could feel against his skin, either, and there was no sound, and no scent. The Earth was not within his reach.

He was too old and experienced at being kidnapped to panic over sensory deprivation like this, even if it was particularly sketchy, but--

\--ah. No. There was warmth after all, but not physical: it filled the small, enclosed distance that his empathy could reach at the moment, and it suffused the darkness itself, evidence of a heart and mind that loved him. "Kunzite," he said with affectionate mock-reproval-- or would have said, if the sound of his voice hadn't just been swallowed whole by the complete darkness.

That was the first thing that made him shiver with something other than the chill on his naked body, and he could feel the sense of the smile the shiver caused, hungry and feral and viciously amused, but careful, so careful, and equally filled with affection. It was just, right then, an incredibly *possessive* affection. 

That was the second thing that caused the King of Earth to shiver deliciously, and his breath caught, and his excitement solidified, became visceral, awakened his adrenaline, made him hyper-aware of the fact that he was suspended and immobilized within his first guardian's bubble of power.

Late, so very late one night maybe a month ago, they'd talked about this while Serenity had been off with Venus in another part of the world doing something official by daylight and something remarkably inventive by moonlight. Endymion had admitted things he'd never spoken aloud before, never thought about when there was a chance of physical contact revealing them through telepathy or empathy. 

Then, as now, Kunzite knew that his King's tastes ran to the creative, knew that the surest way to subtly calm his anxiety in private wasn't a hand on his shoulder, but a hand gently around his wrists. He knew his King was a healer, and he knew his King historically threw himself in between the people he loved and painful attacks for more than one reason. 

Kunzite knew his King loved danger, and that he loved it even more when he knew on a gut level that he was safe, could stop or escape if he wanted to. Kunzite knew that contrived helplessness in the hands of someone he loved was a thing that helped his King deal with the scars from all the times he was truly helpless.

He knew that his brave and shining King, in the whole galaxy equalled in power and love only by his beautiful Queen, loved how possessive of him Kunzite could get when he allowed himself the luxury, and in fact Endymion encouraged it. It was always temporary, because Kunzite also knew he'd always have to share the Senshi of Earth and King of the Crystal Millennium, but when he showed it it was all-encompassing and ravenous.

He hadn't known -- for centuries, he hadn't known, despite knowing Mamoru's mind so very well -- that those desires and proclivities ran so incredibly deep. He hadn't known that Mamoru actually *wanted* him to go *this* hard, but when he felt the desire run sharp through his beautiful King's heart and hindbrain at the errant thought, oh they talked. Aloud and mind to mind, heart to heart, they talked about the smallest details, the dangers, the countermeasures, the limits.

And now it was happening: Endymion had wistfully told him he'd like to be surprised and wake up like this, taken out of and away from the weight of responsibility and expectations, and here he was. He'd told him he trusted him enough to like any surprise his first best could come up with for him; he'd told him about his exceptions, his not wanting punishment or humiliation, not wanting discipline, not wanting even false condescension or insult or belittling-- and nothing that was wildly unsanitary or potentially infectious would do for the King with a medical degree from Harvard. But other than those, oh yes, he wanted to try everything.

And now it was happening.

King Endymion inhaled sharply as the cold against his skin deepened, and a brief flare of escaping luminous golden energy was instantly devoured by the smooth velvet ice of the pitch black sphere he was trapped within. He grew harder, the thought of Kunzite taking his energy -- the one person in the galaxy he actually *wanted* that from -- quickening his pulse further, making his blood rush to its inevitable destination.

Before he closed his mouth, a tendril of solid shadow slipped in and expanded, very efficiently gagging him and directing his head up and back; he casually used his own power to suppress his gag reflex and felt the intrusion slither down his throat, leaving a channel through which he could breathe. _For now,_ the sense of Kunzite's voice floated into his mind, even more amused than before, teasing like the points of knives dragging down his skin but not quite piercing it. The promise made him flush with further anticipation, and then he felt fingers -- real fingers, though they were currently as cold as the tendril -- close loosely around his neck, and another snaking tendril of cold shadow coiled around his dick, which was rapidly approaching painfully hard.

He writhed a little, reacting beautifully for Kunzite and pulling at the restraints, trying to turn his head, giving the other man just enough of a struggle to make it more exciting for his personal monster, and Kunzite leaned up behind him and raked his teeth over Endymion's shoulder, then bit hard. Not quite enough to draw blood, but certainly enough to bruise. Kunzite flexed his hands around Endymion's throat to viscerally remind him that they were there, and Endymion didn't have to make much of a show of giving in, going suddenly pliant until he couldn't help but react again.

There were touches here and there against his skin, sharp and stinging briefly while they teased lightly, each bitingly cold little contact taking another nibble of his golden power. He made a muffled noise in the back of his throat and then had to suppress a cough because of the shadow tendril still pressing against the walls of his windpipe, against his larynx, deep deep down his throat. He bucked, and then he felt another tendril deliberately trace a soft and frigid trail down his back, down, down, lingering at the hollow just above the cleft of his ass. At the same time, he felt two more coil up his legs far past his ankles, where they'd been before, and he struggled a little more insistently as his legs were pulled farther apart.

He could still feel the possessive and violent delight in Kunzite's mind, but the more fervent struggling made the white-haired man freeze in place, briefly lightening his grip to check-- and his King savagely and desperately demanded within the mind-to-mind wordless contact: _keep going, for the love of all that's good and holy--_

Kunzite very definitely obliged, grinning in the dark, teeth against the back of his King's neck.

Mamoru's breathing was fast and shallow now, heart hammering in his chest and precum already beading on the head of his cock. The sense of what Kunzite was doing -- deliberately consuming him in a very real sense that happened not to involve flesh, moving him around, positioning him, all with loving and monstrous precision -- combined with the actual *sensations* of it, and the terrible anticipation of just where those tendrils were headed, and the King of Earth was embarrassingly close to coming.

That's when the tendril coiled icily around his dick squeezed it at the base, and Kunzite's fingers tightened inexorably around his neck, and the slithering shadow that had been traveling down his back touched his asshole, bitterly and shockingly cold. His back arched, and as the shadow tendril pushed firmly into his ass, any sound he managed to make vanished into the utter darkness. 

That tendril worked on preparing King Endymion's very inviting opening, gentle but unstoppably persistent in its ministrations. For the moment, it seemed warm in contrast with everything else as Kunzite stopped using it to take his King's energy, focusing solely on widening the tight hole. It was smooth and glided as though it were *made* of lube, though Endymion knew it was only its complete lack of friction, and its relative warmth made it easier for him to force himself to relax the muscles involved, even if his concentration was in tatters from the constant stimulation.

Unexpectedly, Kunzite's breath was warm against his ear, and he felt the tiny ice crystals from the moisture of it fall like snow to the skin of his shoulder. In a low growl of a voice that could be felt as much as heard, Kunzite said simply and deliberately, full of self-satisfied possession, "Endymion."

That voice saying his oldest name with its usual quiet devotion always conjured up the memories of the long-dead prince he'd once been, in a young green world forgotten by time itself, and it was always warmly welcome. That voice saying that name *like that* was another thing entirely, a thing of that long-dead prince's most secret dreams, most impossible wishes. Only the coiled tendril at the base of his dick kept him from coming right then and there, and oh it hurt, and oh how the pain was sweet.

The tendril in his ass widened again, and King Endymion twitched and arched again, sucking in a sharp breath-- and then the tendril in his throat widened and thickened and nearly totally cut off his air, even as the one in his ass pulled out roughly. Kunzite's hands shifted on his throat so there was only the one-- for just a second-- holding his head up and in place as if the tendril weren't already doing that. Abruptly something hot and slippery and rock-hard pushed its way into his *almost-*ready ass with a sharp and sudden thrust. Instantly, Kunzite's other hand was back on his neck and squeezing around the hardened shadow lodged in his mouth and throat, and Kunzite pulled his King close up against his chest and murmured directly into his ear, "Endymion. My Prince. My King." A beat. " _Mamoru_."

And *that* name, the one that was only his, not shared with the life of his soul before this one, *that* name was so perfect and special and _knowing_ coming from Kunzite, and the King felt as if his heart would burst at the same time as his brain was in the process of whiting out--

\--and he couldn't get enough air, and--

\--the hands tightened sharply on his neck, cutting off the rest of his air and the blood supply to his brain, and the tendrils abruptly began draining his energy *hard*. Kunzite slid slowly out once and then thrust back in with remarkable force, all the way in, large and *filling him* at the same time as he was *taking* from him, and there was no sound anywhere except for the deafening thunder in the King's ears. As sparkles becan to creep in at the edges of his field of vision and his lungs strained to get the breath that wouldn't come, all he could think was a desperate mash of 'MORE ALL FAST HARD ALL YES TAKE' and 'LET ME FUCKING COME ALREADY, GODFUCKDAMMIT'

He didn't feel the coil loosen, he just felt the full-body explosion of the force of his orgasm as Kunzite fucked him harder and faster, keeping him on the edge of consciousness with careful releases of pressure on his neck, and Mamoru couldn't think at all anymore, and he let his awareness dissolve into pure unthinking pleasure in the embrace of Kunzite's whole self, storm and soul and ravening hunger and fierce loving focus and awe and above all, complete trust. The last thing he understood beyond the love was triumph-- pleasure at Endymion's pleasure, at doing it right-- pleasure at conquering and wrecking him so thoroughly, and then he finally passed out.

* * *

When he came back to himself, they were in bed and Kunzite was warming the King of the Earth with his own body heat, leg wrapped around his legs and gently pinning them in place, one arm beneath his head and cradling him to his chest, the other hand carefully and lovingly smoothing back his hair, tracing the lines of his face, leaving ghost-trails of warmth this time. Enveloping Endymion-- no, Mamoru still, only Mamoru-- as surely as his guardian's limbs? Were his guardian's love and gentle attentiveness, both of them protective shields against anything that should threaten the safety of his body or mind. He felt so safe, he felt so *understood* and so cherished and so very, very loved--

"All right?" Kunzite murmured then, smiling at the boyish face with the old eyes and the artfully silvered hair.

"Perfect," breathed Mamoru like a sigh, curling further into Kunzite's warm, broad chest. Everything was already healed or healing, he was warm and safe and loved, and he'd just had spectacularly over-the-top kinky sex with one of his two true loves and been drained of energy. He was exhausted, but he felt pleasantly like jelly and so comfortably sleepy and everything-- everything was--

"Absolutely perfect."

As he dozed off, he thought he heard Kunzite say with his usual singular quiet devotion, "Yes, you are."


End file.
